


T is for Tuppenny Upright

by scarletmanuka



Series: V/V Alphabet Challenge [20]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A big thanks to Dazeventura6 for the title suggestion since I was a bit stuck.</p><p>Also, not overly happy with how this ended so I might revisit at a later date...</p>
    </blockquote>





	T is for Tuppenny Upright

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to Dazeventura6 for the title suggestion since I was a bit stuck.
> 
> Also, not overly happy with how this ended so I might revisit at a later date...

Dinner was to be a casual affair. Willikins was accompanying young Sam on a school trip, and the other servants had been given the night off. When arranging the evening, Sybil had said she would prepare dinner herself, and at this announcement, Sam and Havelock had exchanged a panicked look.

“Sybil, dear, why not let us cook for you?” Sam had said, hurriedly. His wife was an astonishing woman, with many talents, but preparing food was not one of them.

“Good idea, Sam.” Havelock was quick to agree. “You’ve had a busy couple of weeks, Sybil. Why not put your feet up and allow us to take care of you?”

Sybil had beamed, and agreed to let her ‘boys’ pamper her. And that was how the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork and the Duke of Ankh found themselves standing in the empty kitchen, wondering just what to make for tea.

“Any ideas?” Havelock asked, looking more lost than Sam had ever seen him.

Sam shrugged. “A few. I used to be pretty good at fending for myself. Well, when I was sober enough to.” There was an awkward pause. It wasn’t often he mentioned his past vices out loud. He cleared his throat and continued, rummaging through the spice cupboard so he wouldn’t have to meet his lover’s eye. “The only problem is that I doubt what I used to make for tea would be good enough for you and Sybil.”

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and was turned around. “Why do you still feel the need to try and impress us? In case you’ve not realised yet, we’re not your usual sort of nobs.”

Sam sighed. “I know that. It’s just, I doubt very much either of you ever ate onion soup that contained more cabbage than onion, and considered it a good feed. What I can cook up probably won't tickle your fancy.”

Havelock smirked, and arched one of his brows, the way he knew drove Sam crazy. “I'm certain you can tickle my fancy some other way.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I'm sure I can. Now, are you planning on being helpful at all tonight, or will you just distract me by being all cheeky and sexy?”

The Patrician looked around the kitchen, lacking his usual confidence. “Perhaps I should leave the decision making to you. Just tell me what need me to do.”

Sam grinned at the idea of bossing his lover around, and Havelock groaned when he realised what he'd set himself up for. “Regretting that already?” the duke asked, playfully. 

“Perhaps.”

Taking pity on the man, Sam kissed his cheek. “Don't worry, we're not going to attempt anything too difficult. I'm thinking a lamb casserole with dumplings. And I cheated, and bought dessert, so if it all goes horribly wrong, we'll have something edible at least.”

“What did you get?” Not being a huge fan of sweets in general, Havelock was only politely curious. 

“I actually got your favourite,” Sam told him, pulling a greasy white paper bag from the shelf. “Tuppenny Uprights.”

A tongue darted out subconsciously to lick at delicate lips at the thought of the jam doughnuts. “Oh.” Sam really did know him well - they were his one weakness. It was not unheard of for the black carriage to be seen making a stop at a cart on the side of the road. What  _ wasn’t  _ seen was the Patrician licking the icing sugar off his fingers before exiting the carriage on arrival. 

“Don't ever say I don't take care of you.” 

Arms wrapped around his neck and he was pulled into a kiss. “That’s the one thing you’ll never hear me say,” Havelock assured him as they broke apart.

“Good. Now, as fun as this is, if we want to eat tonight we’d better get a crack on.”

He directed Havelock to the larder to fetch vegetables and set the man to chopping them, figuring the assassin would be good with a knife. He wasn’t wrong, and Sam found himself getting distracted as he watched the long, pale fingers rock the blade gracefully backwards and forwards across the chopping board. His mind helpfully supplied him with some memories of other times that those slender digits had been put to use, and he found his breeches becoming rather tight. Tearing his eyes away, he put some lamb shanks into a pot, and mixed up some spices and a gravy. 

“Did I do this right?” Havelock asked once he was finished.

Sam glanced at the chopped vegetables, taking in the almost perfect cubes. “Well that one piece of carrot there isn’t quite the same size as the others,” he teased, “but I don’t  _ think _ that will ruin dinner.”

“I assumed that they would cook more evenly if there were of equal size,” Havelock said, rather defensively. 

Sam laughed. “I’m sure they would, but it almost looks like you pulled out your slide rule. They’re just vegetables.”

“There’s no need for sloppy work just because you deem the task to be menial,” he huffed, eyes narrowing.

“Yes, love.” 

They added the vegetables to the meat and gravy, and popped it into the oven. “Now to make the dumplings and we can put our feet up for a bit,” Sam said. He pulled out some flour, butter, and milk and began measuring out the ingredients. He looked up to find Havelock watching him with an odd expression on his face. “What?” he asked, the look making him feel self conscious. 

“It’s just nice to see you like this. You almost look relaxed.” The Patrician smiled. “I rather like seeing the domesticated side of Sam Vimes.”

“Yeah, well, wait till you taste it first before wanting more,” he replied, somewhat gruffly, but secretly pleased about the praise. “Here, give me a hand with this. We need to rub the butter and flour together.” He got a blank look in reply. “Use your fingers to mix them together until it looks like breadcrumbs.” 

Somewhat hesitantly, Havelock reached his hands into the bowl. He grimaced as his fingers sank into the soft butter, but did as instructed. Sam got the milk and water measured out, and cleared away some vegetable peelings, before checking on the progress. He suppressed a laugh as he saw the single big lump still in the bowl. He found it very endearing when his lover proved he was only human.

“Here, let me help,” he said. He stepped behind Havelock, and reached into the bowl, taking his hands in his own, showing him how to rub the flour and butter between his fingers. He could feel the tendons in the slender hands moving under his fingertips, and took a moment to enjoy the fact that such deadly hands were currently busy with such a mundane task. The taller man was hunched over the bowl, so Sam could comfortably rest his head on his shoulder. He inhaled deeply, taking in the unique scent of him, and turned his face to press a kiss to the crook of his neck.  

Havelock moaned as Sam nipped at his pulsepoint. “You’re going to distract me if you keep that up,” he warned. “Then dinner will never be ready.”

“That’s okay - I know your boss. I’ll make sure he doesn’t ride your arse too much for slacking off.” He grinned as he felt the buck of the hips at his turn of phrase.

“You’re an evil man, Samuel Vimes. Don’t try too hard to convince him.”

“I suppose it’ll depend on how well dinner turns out.” He looked into the bowl and saw that the mixture was now crumbly enough. “Okay, let’s get these finished.”

They added the milk and water and shaped the dough into balls. Sam pulled the casserole from the oven, and they plonked the dumplings into the mix. He shut the door, and turned back with a grin. “Time to pop our feet up.”

Havelock looked around the kitchen. “We should probably clean up a little first. Willikins will kill us if he comes home to find it such a mess.”

Sam made a face. “I suppose you’re right.” He raised his thumb to Havelock’s cheek and wiped away a spot of flour. “You always are.”

“It’s one of my many charms.”

They both bustled around the kitchen, wiping down benches, and clearing dishes. Havelock picked up the bag of potatoes and carried them back into the larder, and Sam followed him with the leftover carrots. It was a rather large room, built for a house full of Ramkins, and Sam could never picture needing so much food. They moved to the dark, back corner where the root vegetables lived, and deposited their cargo. Havelock turned to go, but Sam pushed him gently until he had been crowded against the wall. “Not so fast,” he murmured against his lips. “I’ve not finished bossing you about yet.” His hand rested against the taller man’s neck, and he could feel his pulse speed up.

“Really? What did you have in mind?” 

“On your knees,” Sam growled. Havelock dropped to the ground, and buried his face in Sam’s crotch, inhaling deeply, and mouthing at him through the fabric. His deft fingers worked at the laces, and soon there was nothing between his mouth and Sam’s heavy cock. He licked a stripe up the entire length, and returned to do it again, before taking him in fully.

Sam moaned in the dark as the warm mouth worked him. He twisted the fingers of one hand into his lover’s hair, allowing him to thrust in deeply. The other groped for something to hold him steady, and found one of the shelves. His fingers brushed against a bottle of oil and he grinned as an idea formed. He pulled Havelock upright, and claimed his mouth in a kiss. “Fancy a Tuppenny Upright?” he asked.

Havelock huffed, and kissed along his neck. “Is this really the time to be thinking of dessert?”

Grinning wickedly, Sam said, “ _ Not _ the sort I was thinking of.”

“Oh.”

Sam quickly undid the fastenings to Havelock’s trousers and pulled them down, giving the hard cock that was revealed a few warm up strokes. He then pulled the stopper from the bottle of oil and coated his fingers. Using his feet, he spread Havelock’s legs apart, and reached down until he found the puckered hole. He circled it a few times, and then pushed in one finger. Havelock moaned against him, and continued to lavish kisses to Sam’s neck. His lover was soon ready for a second finger, and by the time he was pumping him full with three, they were both panting hard. 

“I want you,” Havelock said, his head thrown back against the wall.

Sam removed his fingers, and moved his hands to underneath the firm cheeks. He pulled his lover upwards until legs wrapped around his waist, and arms about his neck. Using the wall to balance them, he reached down and lined his cock up with Havelock’s entrance and pushed his way in. 

“Oh, yes!” Havelock cried, feeling his lover fill him completely. 

Sam thrust into him, and found his mouth in the dark. He kissed him deeply, his tongue delving inside, sharing breaths. “Do you like this,” he asked as he broke the kiss. “Do you enjoy being fucked against the wall in the dark?”

“Gods, yes. Harder, Sam,  _ harder _ .”

More than happy to comply, even if he  _ was _ supposed to be the one doing the bossing about, Sam bucked even harder. Havelock cried out as his prostate was hit, and he ground down onto his lover. “More,” he whispered, brokenly.

“I was wondering where you boys had gotten to,” Sybil said from behind them. 

Sam turned at her voice, not slowing his thrusts. “Sorry, love, got a bit distracted.”

She laughed. “That’s more than alright. Need a hand?”

“Yes, please!” they chorussed together. 

Sybil grinned, and crossed the larder, removing her clothes as she came.

 


End file.
